


Ruby Red Stained Glass

by violetlolitapop



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Homophobia, M/M, Murder, Suicide, and bigotry, and ghosts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2014-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-19 07:54:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2380661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetlolitapop/pseuds/violetlolitapop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Killing things is not so hard. It's hurting that's the hardest part.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ruby Red Stained Glass

The sun is blazing. There is no other way to describe it. For a brief second Ivan is unable to hear the words of the tour guide as he's too busy wondering how the hell he's able to wear that costume comfortably.

Maybe it just has to do with him growing up in the colder climates of the North-West, but one look to his sister shows she is having no problems in adjusting at all. While he can feel new sweat bead up around his hairline, Natalya doesn't even seem bothered. The only noticeable difference is the way she dresses here - her normal wardrobe of long sleeves and stockings traded for sleeveless blouses and bare legs.

"How are you okay in this heat?" he asks her.

"It's twenty degrees cooler in the shade," she says and waves the parasol she's recently bought slightly.

"That doesn't make sense, your shade is always moving."

"Hush up, I want to hear this."

With a small roll of his eye, Ivan leaves her alone and even tunes back into the guide. Ah, no wonder, he's started talking about the ghosts haunting this particular building. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and begins to really listen as well. They've traveled all this way south, through two states and a good amount of gas, he may as well get his money's worth.

This is what Natalya is really interested in, he knows that they may have grown up on the stories of their immigrant ancestors. The two of them and their older sister sitting at the knee of the grandfather as he retells the stories he heard of from his grandfather being the first Braginsky of their family to journey to a new country, make his way through the wild west of his day, and finally come to settle in the town that would be the birth place for the generations to come. Of course, when she had been old enough to make the decision to search on her own, Natalya had discovered the old mining town where their great-great-grandfather once lived had now become known as a rather popular and very haunted ghost town.

And the remaining residents are very keen on profiting from the lives and deaths of those who've passed through with several haunted themed tours and exhibits. And with a side of history tossed in every now and again, naturally.

With the excuse of wanting to learn more of their family history through first-hand experience, Natalya had brought up paying a visit time and time again. Right up until her high school graduation when Ivan surprised her with the idea of the two of them saving what they could for an entire year so that they may make the trip themselves.

He has never been the type to show tender affection. It had probably been the first hug he's accepted passively from her since they were children, and to see her happiness grow tenfold at it had been more satisfying then he thought it would be.

That won't stop him from wishing death on this weather though. He hopes paying attention to their guide will take his mind off of it.

"One of our more famous ghost stories," the guide begins and only pauses briefly to lift up his pants ladled down with heavy looking holsters attached to his leather belt. "Is attached to this here Bed and Breakfast. Or at least what once was a Bed and Breakfast, folks've come and gone trying to make the business work, but the ghosts make it a challenge for guests to sleep through the night!"

The crows around them laughs while Ivan begins to feel a little bored and Natalya waits patiently for the rest of the story.

"Anywho, the more famous of the ghosts comes from this house. His name was Alfred, and he stayed in one of the rooms here with his brother while workin' the mines on the other side of town, and his tale is that of a love ending in tragedy."

From beside him, Ivan hears Natalya sigh. Sure enough, when he looks to her he can see the disappointment in her eyes.

"Some ghosts only exist because of a love gone wrong," he whispers to her.

"In my research it's been revenge, early deaths, or demons."

"How often have you looked up ghosts of scorned lovers, or those forced apart though?"

"Enough."

"Yes, but the truth is it's more common for some people to be slightly obsessed with perfect romances."

"Unfortunately. Things would be a lot more interesting if they weren't."

Ivan makes no reply. Instead, the two drop their conversation and listen once more to their guide. They've already missed the beginning of the story, no need to miss any more of it.

"Now, they weren't properly engaged," he says. "In fact, it was if no one knew of their romance at the time, but as everyone learned afterwards, Alfred left town for a better paying job and promised her he'd come back with enough money for a proper ring and wedding and they would then be able to start a married life. 'Cept that's not how it went.

"When he came back and settled in with his brother again, Alfred went out to find his girl. When he did, he found her on the arm of another man.

"Right there," he says and pauses to point at a dusty street corner some two blocks down from where they all stand. "A huuuge spectacle was made when he confronted the two. And the whole thing was made even worse when other man turned out to be none other than.. his best friend."

"Fuckin' A," someone in front of Ivan mutters and he can't help but silently agree.

"Alfred stormed back to the house and holed himself in his room and everyone believed that was the end of it, the poor boy was heartbroken, So, his friend believed it was best for them to separate as well, give time for the situation to cool off, so to speak. So he decided to walk the girl back home, which just happened to.. right there."

The guide points to a house still standing directly across the street from the Bed and Breakfast. Everyone around reacts with little murmurs of predictions on what would happen next in the story before they're settled down again.

"Now he walked her back home, and Alfred saw this from his window. Still angry and still hurting, Alfred grabbed his gun and stormed back out of the house. He confronted the new couple again only this time, ladies and gentlemen, there are no words and there are no warnings. Alfred pulled the trigger on his ex-best friend and hit him once in the chest. He fell. The woman he loved ran from the scene, going back down where they came from to get to town and he gunned her down. Hits her back three time and she fell. The noise called a crowd and when the first scream was heard, Alfred moved the gun to the side of his head and pulled the trigger again. One more time, and down he went.

"I've heard many stories from folks who've lived on these streets, who've happened to look outside their front windows just in time to see the ghostly figure of Alfred come walking up the street here, pass through the fence and walk into the house. Just last month after a tour I gave, a young woman tells me the next day that she parked her car here late at night and waited to see if she could see this ghost herself.

"She tells me that she saw him, walking right up to the side of her car and the closer he got, the colder she was. She said, just as she was about to turn on her car to leave, he's right at her window, wishing her a good evening and asking if she was in need of assistance.

"When she told me this, I was floored. I've never heard a story of someone actually speaking to him, never in all my history of giving this tour and telling this story. She went on to tell me that he was the most kindest sweetheart she had ever spoken to."

"Kind people don't just shoot women."

Ivan doesn't have to turn his head to hear his sister. She says it with the intent for all to hear, and sure enough all heads are now facing toward them. He mentally prepares himself, because there may be only one chance to stop this and he needs to be ready to spot it.

"Maybe not," says the guide. "But I reckon even some get pushed to that point."

"Then maybe they were never that kind to begin with," Natalya shoots back in an even tone.

"Well, it's hard to judge someone as heartbroken as he was."

"It doesn't sound like heartbreak. It sounds like he couldn't take rejection and killed a man and a woman."

"They both did live."

"And that excuses his intent to kill?"

"Natasha," Ivan calls, but she hushes him.

"Imagine if the love of your life tossing you aside," the guide tells her. "How would you feel? What would you do?"

"Even if I had the capability of falling in love, I certainly wouldn't kill anyone for something that is out anyone's control. Emotions do not work that way."

Her argument is lost though. It seems the man in front of her is unable to focus on anything but the first part of her reply.

"Can't fall in- Miss, now that can't be true. I haven't ever heard of anyone being that heartless."

Natalya grows rigid next to him and Ivan knows this situation needs to be controlled.

"I am not heartless, you narrow-"

"Natasha!"

Ivan grabs his sister's hand, cuts her off before she's able to insult anyone and forces her to look at him. When she she does he can see the stiffness in her jaw and the hard look to her eyes. She's ready to fight.

"I'm not wrong," she tells him evenly with a steel touch to her words.

"I know," he says. "But this argument isn't on the same subject anymore."

A moment passes where no one says anything at all. Natalya worms her hand back out of her brother's grasp and clutches her parasol with both. There's a small pout on her face and Ivan doesn't miss the way her eye twitches when that smug look on their guide's face settles as he turns back around and continues the tour. He thinks he's won, but Ivan knows that when this is over Natalya will corner him and without it being completely public, he won't do a thing to stop her then.

Speaking of, as the rest of their fellow tourists continue to walk behind their tour guide, Natalya does not move and by default neither does Ivan.

She remains quiet, looking to the boarded up house until Ivan quietly calls her name.

"I'm not heartless," she says.

"No, you're not."

"I'm not broken."

"No, you're not."

"He's an asshole."

"...The ghost or the tour guide?"

"...Both."

Ivan laughs and is glad to see when she smiles at it. It's a small one, but her mood is improving, and he's happy for it. He even let's her hold his hand when she reaches for it.

As they catch to their group she says, "I think I want to see what kind of 'kind' person murders two innocent people."

"Those are called crimes of passion. Something like temporary insanity, or at least that's what defense attorney's say for their clients."

"You watch too much ID."

"You watch too much Destiny."

"At least neither one of us watch the Food Network."

"Make fun of your sister, I don't see you saying anything when you eat her food."

"It's only a joke, she knows that. Though I still don't understand how you can watch so many cooking shows in a row, she doesn't even write anything down, she just watches to watch most of the time."

"I don't think we'll ever know."

The next row of houses they're being shown are small square abodes that only have one room. They're all cloistered together and had at one point dozens of miners housed inside each one. They had all jammed themselves together to cut the cost of living, but neither one really cares to hear as much. Natalya in particular would rather much keep talking about the last stop.

"We should camp out there," she says. "A first real-life encounter with a ghost, even if he seems like a prick."

"You would think with all those ghost shows you watch, you'd know that was a bad idea."

"I don't think most of those investigative ones are all that real to be honest."

"So you admit it then?"

"Ivan."

Her tone is series again. He knows that she really means it, that she really wants to.

"I don't want to sit outside in the dark," he says. "There are barely any street lights, it seems like no one ever bothers to leave their house. Do you really want to be out here alone just because it might be a sure thing?"

It is exactly what she wants, which is why some nine hours later Ivan finds himself sitting up against the chain link fence with Natalya perched next to him. His one solace is that with the sun gone, the air is finally cold. He's able to wear his favorite jacket and not feel like he's about to pass out from heat stroke.

"We should have asked what time he usually appears," he says and stretches out his legs. They haven't been sitting out for very long, but already he feels his legs tingle with unrest.

"Too busy making him cry," Natalya says while scrolling through phone.

Probably looking up more information on the house, Ivan things. Just like with the Amityville house and the Annabelle doll, when something like this catches her interest, she will research and learn until there is nothing left.

"You can be very intimidating at times," he says while recalling the way she had strutted up to him when the tour was over to reignite their argument from before.

A small smile blooms. "Good."

The time passes by in relative silence. For awhile, Ivan does the same as her. He brings out his own phone and spends time talking to friends, making replies and then decides to play some tetris. It only entertains him for a few minutes before the novelty grows old and his eyes are too tire to stay opened for long.

"I'm going to try to take a nap," he says and lifts the hook of his jacket over his head. "Wake me up if anything happens."

"I should let you sleep through it as punishment for leaving me alone awake out here."

He pulls the hood down over his eyes, obscuring half of his face.

"You made a grown man cry today. You're fine."

"He didn't really cry."

"He may as well have been."

Ivan can here the pride in her voice when, once again, she says, "Good."

One stifled laugh later and Ivan is leaning back against the fence. He must be more tired than he realized, because not even a minute later and he's asleep.

In his dreams he can hear the long whistle of a signal being called. He's not sure what it's for, but he feels himself moving towards it as dust and dirt rise up and stick to his clothes while he walks. Sweat sticks to the back of his collared shirt to his neck and his hair plastered to his head from underneath his hat. He reaches for the bottom of the handkerchief kept tied around his neck and wipes down his face.

"Eh, it's hotter today!"

His attention is immediately drawn to another man standing beside him. No, walking beside him.

With this wide smile being thrown at him from a freckled face man of about his age with strange spiked hair a town blooms around them. It's booming with people milling around every which way - women in long dresses and parasols taking to finding shelter on the wooden sidewalks under shaded verandas of shops and saloons as the men hurry to destinations dressed in the clothes from old movies he's seen long ago about cowboys.

"Let's get goin', ja?" the man next to him says, and now Ivan can hear his accent and only wonders briefly on where it's from before he suddenly speeds up and can only see the back of him carrying a pick-axe over his shoulder.

"That Swede ain't gonna take my share of silver from me," he laughs and disappears in the crowd.

Ivan laughs as well, doesn't question why.

"Good luck, Densen!" he calls out, and only then does he stop walking.

In the middle of all this noise he heard it. His voice, but not his voice. It was deeper, or at least sounded deeper. And there was something to it. An accent of his own. But why?

"Ivan!"

His name. Someone is calling his name, but no... no, not really.

"Ivan!"

That isn't right, that sounds different too. What is happening, why is he freaking out?

"Ivan?!"

Someone grabs his shoulder, twists him around he's suddenly staring down into the bluest eyes he's ever seen.

Ivan gasps awake. He's breathing hard, like is had been suffocating and he doesn't understand why.

"...my brother," he hears Natalya say. "I though he'd up sleeping through, but I guess not."

He feels the slender hand of his sister touch his shoulder. It makes him flinch.

"Are you okay?" she asks, and is understandably concerned.

Instead of answering, Ivan swipes his hood down and breathes in deeply. his once pounding heart is calming down. He finally opens his eyes and is met with the worried look of his sister who is crouched down in front of him, and behind her something he hand never thought he would see before.

In all his years of hearing ghost stories and watching horror movies, he never would have expected this. The man behind his sister carries no faint aura to say he's something other worldly, is not transparent, and looks as if he were alive. He even looks as if he were meant t be one of the tour guides dressed to cater to tourists in their costumed get-ups.

But there's something different about him. An air around him that says his slacks, suspenders, every bit of him is authentic, and there's something else. His face, his expression, the disbelief written across those blue eyes if familiar somehow. Why are they so familiar?

"I'm pretty sure this _is_  Alfred," Natalya tells him and even smiles. "Can you believe that? Can you honestly believe that?"

"Alfred?" he croaks out and even winces at how rough he sounds.

There's no mistaken the slight wide eyed look he's being given and if anything, it has Ivan grow uneasy. He doesn't like the way he's being stared at, doesn't care at all for what's happening and doesn't know how to escape it.

"Ivan," he says and Ivan gets hit with a sense of déjà vu.

It's his name, but not at the same time. It's said differently, almost too awkward to his own ears, and doesn't feel like it belongs to him.

Though why that is, he's not given the time to figure out. What could be considered a lovely face turns into something fierce. Blue eyes narrow behind glasses and eyebrows furrow. Alfred's gaze darkens just as his lips pull into a sneer as he growls out:

"You sonuvabitch!"

**Author's Note:**

> [this is based on a true event that people really do call a tragic love story and that pisses me off](http://www.tombstonetimes.com/stories/petra2.html)
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> Next Chapter: In Which Ivan is in Deep Shit


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